A Life Will End

What is it that you truly fear? 

 

What is it that makes the small hair on the back of your neck stand at attention, gives you goose bumps, causes you to shiver at the very thought of it? 

 

What is it that paralyzes you to inaction?  What is it that drops you to your knees and makes you want to disappear?

 

We, each of us, make decisions each day.  Sometimes the decision is great, but most of the time, the decisions are small.  Most of these decisions are not life changing or life altering in any way.  They are simple decisions such as the choice to eat this or that.  Perhaps it might be the choice to drive this way or that way to work.  As I said, these are not very big decisions and most of the time, we make them without much thought, never thinking or worrying about the consequences.

 

As a principal in charge of a high school community of approximately 1900 students and staff, I’m charged with making decisions, both big and small, and these decisions affect folks.  In the face of a great or big decision, the thought of making a wrong or poor decision is worrisome, but it doesn’t necessarily cause me fear.  I strive . . . aim . . . to do the right thing.  I gather input from many.  I listen to their ideas and suggestions.  Ultimately, I make a decision by looking at the big picture and taking into the consideration the best interests of everyone.  And in the end, not everyone agrees with me necessarily, but it is a decision I make and I own it, along with the consequences of that decision.

 

Legend has it that during the Tet Offensive in 1968 during the Vietnam War, General William Westmoreland had his senior officers write their own obituaries.  If this legend is correct, I’m not sure what the reason Westmoreland had for doing this, but as I reflect on this, I believe that one could surmise that once these officers clued in on the fact that their lives might end . . . indeed at some point will end . . . the fear of the consequences of their decisions somehow became less.    

 

As a dad, the thought of one of my kids getting hurt, or worse, is perhaps my greatest fear, along with the fear of something happening to my wife, Kim.  Unfortunately, that fear came to an ugly realization when my son was murdered this past July.  His death still hurts, still haunts.  It affects me each day, sometimes at various moments of the day, and I know it affects my wife and two daughters, just as I know it affects others whose lives he touched in one way or another. 

 

On that sunny afternoon, the decision was made by another human being that had drastic and dire consequences that had never, ever entered my mind.  But yet, the decision made by another individual cost my son his life, and it cost my family greatly.  I had no control over that decision.  My son didn’t have control over the decision that ended his own life at that moment.  For me . . . for my family and for others . . . on that sunny afternoon in July, my worst fear was realized.

 

Fear is real.  It is an ugly emotion.  It can paralyze.  It can stunt growth.  Fear robs you of joy and happiness.  Fear takes you away from living in the moment and causes you to live in the shadow of “if” and “perhaps.”  That is an ugly place to live, if one can even call it living.

 

But if we come to realize that a job will eventually end, the decisions one makes in that job become less fearful.  Instead of fearing the outcome of the decision, we can accept the consequences of the decision if we know deep down in the valleys and recesses of our heart and soul that we did the best we could, made the very best decision we could at that time.

 

And like the officers under General Westmoreland, if we realize that our life will someday end, we then have permission . . . the duty . . . to live our life in the very best way possible, doing for others instead of doing just for ourselves.  We can extend a hand and lift others up.  We can encourage and help, rather than discourage and erect barriers.

 

We can do this because our jobs, like our lives, will one day end.  And when we realize this, we are then given a choice to live in fear or to proceed as best we can, with whatever resources we have at hand to make our life, and the lives of others, better.  Something to think about . . .

 

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

 

To My Readers:

The second book of the Lives Trilogy, Shattered Lives, will become available on Amazon.  It carries the story forward that began with the prequel, Taking Lives, and forward from the first book of the Lives Trilogy, Stolen Lives.  You can find the first two books on Amazon at:

 

Taking Lives: http://www.amazon.com/Taking-Lives-Joseph-Lewis-ebook/dp/B00MG2JAWE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1407974964&sr=8-1&keywords=Taking+Lives%2C+Joseph+Lewis

 

Stolen Lives: http://www.amazon.com/Stolen-Lives-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00PKKN6W4/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1415927661&sr=1-1&keywords=stolen+Lives%2C+Joseph+Lewis

 

Thanks,

jl

Breaking The Horse

When I began teaching and coaching, my first three years were at the second smallest school in the state of Wyoming.  It was a social studies position in a grade seven through twelve school.  Seventy-two kids in the high school, and 117 kids total.  It was located in Veteran and practically in the middle of nowhere.  I lived in Yoder, which was a short distance away.  And I loved it.  I look back at it and wonder just how I managed to do it being young and dumb and naïve as I was, but I’m thankful that I had the opportunity to learn and grow so much.

Keith was one of my students, an eighth grader when I first began.  Quiet, hard-working, a ranch kid.  He could ride and rope and I still have this picture of him up in the saddle with his cowboy hat on, leaning on the saddle horn, a smile on his face as he looks off in the distance.

His horse had a foal and he had to train it, which also meant Breaking it. 

Breaking The Horse sounds rather harsh, doesn’t it?  I mean, when you break a dish, a window, or a mirror, it shatters and pieces fly everywhere, not to mention seven years bad luck for shattering a mirror, allegedly.  It’s work to clean up the mess and too difficult to repair, so we end up throwing it away never to use it again.

In essence, that’s what takes place to the horse’s spirit . . . sort of. 

Keith was very gentle about it, though.  He would talk to the horse (the original horse whisperer, I think), pet it, lead it, and would lean on it.  Get the foal used to him, to a human, to his scent and to his touch.  I remember the foal fighting him a little when he tried to place a bit and bridle in its mouth, but eventually the foal would allow him to do so.  And in time, just like the foal’s momma, or mare, the foal was as friendly as could be.  It would come when Keith called to it.  As long as he was nearby, the foal would allow me to pet it, and if Keith road the foal’s momma, the foal would tag along, actually allowing Keith the lead it by the bit and bridle.  In Keith’s case, the foal started out skittish, but ended up friendly and fairly docile.

Breaking The Horse.

At times, it seems we Break each other.

I’ve been broken a time or two in my life.  Probably more than a time or two.  I’ve been in various jobs and positions where because of fear, I was afraid to act, afraid to make a decision.  I didn’t know what to say, what to do, or how to think or act.  My boss liked it that way.  Various people who thought they were my boss liked it that way.

I didn’t. 

I was unhappy.  I was sad, perhaps depressed.  I hated going to work.  My wife, Kim, said I aged before her eyes.

And I’ve watched adults Break kids.

Think about it . . .

I’m an adult and I suffered.  I had various abilities and ways I could cope, but I still suffered.

Imagine a child at any age when an adult Breaks him or her.  Their spirit.  Their hope.  Their inquisitiveness.  Their creativity.  Their sense of identity and their sense of purpose.  All Broken.

Sometimes the adult will “justify” it, saying to anyone who will listen that it is for their own good.  Their own good.

Exactly who’s good?  The child who walks through life Broken, without hope and fearful of what is in store for the future?  The child who is so afraid he or she cannot decide, afraid to live for fear of what might happen next? 

Or . . .

Is it for the good of the adult because he or she likes order, likes the control, likes to be in charge?  Maybe likes to win?  Perhaps, in a darker view, likes the victim to be “in that place” whatever place that is.

I’m thinking that guidance and training and discovery is better than Breaking.  Done with love, with care and compassion, a child will flourish and grow and become.  Like Keith and his foal, some gentle talking . . . whispering, some petting, some leading and gentle leaning showed the foal what Keith’s intentions were.  So too, an adult can, with love and kindness, with compassion and care, show a child what the adult’s intentions are.  And in the long run, we don’t Break the child’s spirit, the child’s passion, the child’s purpose, the child’s identity.  We guide and love, not Break.  Because once the child is Broken, the pieces are too shattered and scattered to pick up and repair. And a child should never, ever, be thrown away.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

To My Readers:

The second book of The Lives Trilogy, Shattered Lives, was sent off to the publisher.  It should be out the end of February, 2015 or the beginning of March, 2015.

To catch up, you can find Taking Lives, the prequel on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00MG2JAWE?ie=UTF8&at=aw-android-pc-us-20&force-full-site=1&ref_=aw_bottom_links and the first book of The Lives Trilogy, Stolen Lives at http://www.amazon.com/Stolen-Lives-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00PKKN6W4/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1415908221&sr=1-1&keywords=Stolen+Lives%2C+Joseph+Lewis

Thanks,

jl

From A Seed

When I was in about the sixth or seventh grade, my brother and I walked to school.  It wasn’t far and the walk was no big deal even in the snow.  Walnut Street hill was a bit of a climb and I suppose back then, it seemed formidable and a burden, but as I drove down that street this past year, the hill didn’t seem that big at all.  Along that walk we had to pass by a cemetery, but in the daylight, it wasn’t as sinister or scary as it was at night.  As I said, the walk to school was no big deal.

Along the way, my brother and I would pelt each other with acorns scattered on the ground from oak trees.  Further along the walk, we’d find chestnuts.  Now those babies could leave a welt!  When it was winter, the snow gave us a good excuse for an impromptu snowball fight. But nonetheless, boys will be boys, I suppose.   

I have always found it fascinating that a tiny seed, when planted and mixed with a little rain and a little sunshine could grow into something so stately, so tall as a tree.  A growing tree doesn’t happen overnight.  It takes time, years.  And eventually, when it grows . . . as it grows, it sheds more seeds so that those, too, have the potential to grow into something equally magnificent.

From A Seed.

Sometimes these seeds are planted with purpose.  Farmers purposefully plant seeds.  Selecting the best field and then spacing them out so that each plant will have room to grow.  They fertilize and cultivate until the crop takes shape and then they harvest.  Takes time, patience, effort, and sometimes, can be frustrating, because they know better than others that not all seeds make it.  But most do.  They do.

From A Seed.

Each of us, each day, at many times during the day, plant seeds.  With each other.  With our kids.  Even with ourselves.  These seeds can be positive and nurturing.  They can be comforting and supportive.  They can build up.  Yet, sometimes, these seeds can be negative and can destroy.  They can tear down. 

And it is these seeds I worry about.  These seeds that can be infectious, diseased laden, and have lasting, sometimes permanent, damage when planted.  The scary part is we won’t know, just like that tree that grows From A Seed, what that diseased seed will grow into until many years later from the time it was first planted.  A scary prospect.

Farmers never knowingly plant destructive seeds.  Never!  They want crops to grow, to thrive, and to eventually, benefit many.

As I look back, I think that there were many in my own life who planted seeds within me: Sr. Josephe’ Marie way back in sixth grade planted the seed for writing.  Mrs. Wagner and Sr. Angelus nurtured the seed for music that was planted by my mom and dad and my brothers and sisters.  Fr. Jim and Fr. Mike nurtured the seed of faith for which I’m so thankful and have leaned on, especially in the last year, even though that seed was actually planted by my mom and dad from little on.

And then there were others who shall remain nameless who tried to plant within me the seeds of negativity, of doubt, of smallness, even of hatred that hopefully, have or had no lasting foothold in my being.  Yet, they too, shaped me into who I am.  At times, I still doubt myself, my actions, my words, my abilities.  I guess these seeds are still with me and somehow took root.

From A Seed.

So I wonder this day, what type of farmer you are . . .

The kind of farmer who plants seeds of hope and love, of compassion and support, of strength and compassion?  Or, the kind of farmer who plants seeds of doubt and negativity . . . the kind of farmer who likes to plant seeds to destroy and tear down, the type of farmer who finds nothing positive to say or do, but instead will . . .

Which kind of farmer are you?  Because From A Seed you sow today, you have the power to change a life . . . many lives . . . even your own life . . . for the better or for the worse.  Whether you realize it or don’t.  So what kind of farmer are you?  Something to think about . . .

For My Readers:

Thank you for taking the time to read my weekly blog.  Hopefully you find it satisfying and gives you food for thought, and along the way, entertains you.

Thank you, too, for picking up a copy of the prequel to my Lives Trilogy, Taking Lives, which can be found at: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00MG2JAWE?ie=UTF8&at=aw-android-pc-us-20&force-full-site=1&ref_=aw_bottom_links  Remember that as a prequel, Taking Lives is just a taste of what will come, an introduction, to the Lives Trilogy.  It has an ambiguous ending, purposely so.

Stolen Lives, is the first book of the Lives Trilogy and can be found at: http://www.amazon.com/Stolen-Lives-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00PKKN6W4/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1415908221&sr=1-1&keywords=Stolen+Lives%2C+Joseph+Lewis The second book of the Lives Trilogy, Shattered Lives, will be out either later this month or at the beginning of March.  I’ll keep you posted as to its arrival date.

Please know that these books are works of fiction (thriller/mystery), but based upon research and my conversations with kids and parents.  I hope you give them a read.  As always, thanks!

jl